How To Name Your Story Novels & Stories

What would stop Suit from constantly sending Anderson to a world where he was destined and designed to lose constantly. “Don’t be so dramatic.” As if reading Anderson’s mind, Suit spoke up. “Like I said earlier, the first story was just a test run for you to understand how things work. Things will be different next. Remember, just as your actions and decisions will affect the course of the story, so will the decisions and actions of others affect yours. I’m sure you understand what I mean.” Suit smiled with a knowing smile.

“I haven’t told anyone… yet.” I glared at him. “What do you want?” “Simple. Write a new story. This time, about us.” I blinked. “What?” “You heard me. Use that same pen name. But this time, make me the male lead. I want to see how wild your imagination really is.” I stared at him, speechless. He leaned in slightly, his voice low. “You could call it Bad Boy in the Locker Room. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

I rolled my eyes. "Tell me how's work?" I started a conversation. "Good, we are starting the beta testing for our new app..." I let him get to the nerdy details as I listen over a glass of wine. "What about you?" He asked. "Well, I just finished writing that story I told you about, I've given it to my editor." I smiled proudly. "Can't wait to read." I laughed at that statement. "Why so you can't pretend to actually read it and give my characters names that don't exist." I mocked.

Diabolos said to himself. “What if I also publish Alejandro’s harrowing tale? I’m not sure though if his novel will be accepted because I cringed when I think the troupe and the storylines,” he said as he put his index finger on his forehead and thought hard. “However, I kinda like the concept; what would be a good title?” he asked himself. He leaned back in his swivel chair and turned it around slowly while thinking. “How about I worshiped the love that killed me?” he pondered.

I needed control. It wasn’t Noah that made me anxious. Sure, he was easy on the eyes, but I knew he was just playing with me. No, the anxiety was from breaking my routine. Going to the pool wasn’t part of my plan, and my routine kept me grounded. I rushed through the shower, washing off the chlorine, feeling the water run over my skin like it was washing away all the chaos in my mind. I slipped into fresh clothes, quickly pulling myself back together, trying to focus. Once I was done, I went back to my work. I opened the drawer and pulled out my sketchbook. Inside was a drawing of a character for my latest book, a big guy in a wheelchair. This was part of my process, visualizing my character

That’s not something I expected to hear this morning. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out at first. I swallow. “I… I didn’t think I was even on anyone’s radar.” “You are,” he says. “More than you realize.” I shake my head slowly, trying to process it. “That’s… That’s crazy. I just started. I mean, I’m not even in big chains yet—” “You don’t need chains,” he interrupts gently. “You have a brand. A name. A story. That’s what people connect with.”

She told me if I wanted to help my unborn daughter face the many obstacles but also, a dangerous challenge that she will need to face, I would need to listen to a story and really take in every detail. So, I sat beside the woman as she told me a story, the same story I would recite to you whenever you fell asleep or were afraid. She told me I would need to tell you that story until it was forever drilled into your mind, it would benefit you in more ways than others. She even knew that you would not always go by your birth name, but a name that you would use as a cover to hide some of your past. I still do not know to this day how this woman knew all of this, but she did.

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There was no way I could succeed without a strong plan and a strong back up plan, and a backup backup plan I had spent the last few days planning. I knew what I had to With each word I write, a new persona takes shape. I decided to call myself "Nora," a rogue werewolf who has been wandering alone for years, searching for a place to belong. My new story includes the tragic loss of my parents in a fire, forcing me to fend for myself and learning to survive in the wild. After writing, I started reading it out, practicing the sadness and pain in my voice as I retell Nora's story, ensuring that the emotions seem genuine.

She nodded and then turned to me and said, “then why don’t you incorporate both into what you wish to show us?” Adding both together? That wasn’t an impossible request, but it wasn’t something I had quite prepared for. Still, I had to impress them so I quickly thought up something on the top of my head. Taking the centre of the stage, I took a quiet but deep breath in, as I had learned to do many times during practice. Then, with a clear voice, I spoke out some lines, “if there is a story to be told, why should I not be the one to tell it? Do we all not have that choice to tell our own tales?”